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User blog:TKandMit/"The Rest of Your Lives" - Danganwiki: Convention Carnage
The purple and red seat in front of me had a tear in it and I found myself poking and prodding at it for the last few minutes. I fumbled with the exposed yellow cushion, plucking at it and tearing a tiny piece off. I rolled it between my thumb and index finger as I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Dropping the bit of cushion in favor of my phone, I took it out and opened the notification. My boyfriend had messaged me on Discord, asking how I was. “Hey honey how’s it going? You arrive in la yet?” PointlessMunky92 wrote. “Good! Still on the bus but I think we’re stopping in the next couple minutes. Still gotta check into the hotel, ill let you know when im all set!” I wrote back. “awesome - remember to record some of the show for me! + good luck getting on stage <3” “Absolutely. Love you!” I could tell he was excited for me; I’ve always wanted to see Epic Rap Battles of History perform live and this was finally my chance. We bought two tickets but he got the flu earlier in the week and didn’t feel like traveling across the state and being away from home for two days. Selling the spare ticket online, I decided to keep mine and see the show anyway; I was always a much bigger fan of the YouTube series than he was, and he didn’t want me to lose this opportunity. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and stretched my legs. Like I had just predicted, the bus came to an abrupt halt and I rocked forward. I grunted and got out of my seat, cracking my back after laying dormant for the past two hours. I picked my backpack up off the floor and slipped my arms through the straps; I walked down the aisle of the bus towards the door and stepped down the stairs onto the sidewalk of downtown Los Angeles, California. The sun was in my eyes and people were hustling and bustling down the sidewalk in every direction. Walking forward, the sun eclipsed as one of the roofs of the two large buildings covered it. The Starstruck Showplace was a large cylindrical building with a dome roof. Attached to it was a four-story hotel with five sides, called RnR Resorts. The twin doors to the hotel were made of glass and chrome with a bright red decal on the corners; I pushed my way through one of the doors and found myself in the bright lobby of the hotel. Directly across from me was the counter and a concierge, who smiled and greeted me, “Welcome to RnR Resorts! How may we help you today?” I came forward and talked to her, “Hi, my name is Matt Wonder, I have a reservation to stay the night here.” Her long baby blue nails blurred in a frenzy as she tapped away at her keyboard, the white monitor reflecting off her baby blue framed glasses. Finding the information she needed, she smiled and turned back to me and said, “Ah yes, you are all set!” She handed me a plastic bright red card with a golden stripe down the side. “Here is your room key; your room number is 117. Enjoy your stay!” She was very nice but odd at the same time. Instead of pronouncing my room number as one-seventeen or a hundred-and-seven, she said elevendy-seven. Regardless, I thanked her all the same and headed off down the red and gold hallway. ---- I woke up in a haze. It felt like I had just woken up from a bender but I didn’t have anything to drink. Maybe I was just more exhausted than I thought from the bus ride? Not yet used to my surroundings, I scanned the room quickly and my eyes landed on the digital clock resting on my nightstand. It read 10:04, and judging by the lack of sunshine coming in through the windows, I assumed it was night now. I arrived at four o’clock; did I really nap for six hours?! I was planning on getting dinner before the show but now I had to abandon that idea if I didn’t want to miss anything! I grabbed my glasses off the nightstand and put on my cap and my shoes, jogging down the hallway. The show was supposed to start at 10:30 and I was frantic as I thought I wasn’t even going to get anywhere near the stage now. Luckily, I did arrive in time. To my surprise, I actually arrived to a very small amount of people in the middle of the expo hall at the Showplace. There were monitors, drums, turntables, and microphone stands set up on the stage but nothing else. After a quick headcount, I found that there were only fifteen other people with me here. “Ah! The final lucky audience member’s here!” One of the girls yelled, pointing at me as I walked up. Confused, I replied, “Lucky audience member?” The group of them moved to reveal a little banner hanging off the side of the stage; red text on a white background that said “Limited Time Offer! The First 16 Random Audience Members To Show Up Will Be Granted VIP Access!” By this time I noticed that everyone was wearing a lanyard with a laminated badge on the hook. Above the banner was one last lanyard, a tall muscular man in a purple tank top handing it to me. I was shocked; the badge had a picture of me as well my name printed on it. How… how is this possible? I just arrived here and won a VIP access, but how did they know ahead of time? To print out a badge? I had so many questions, but I never got to ask them as the man who handed me the badge started up a conversation with me. “I don’t really know, either,” the large man said. He was Caucasian but well-tanned, and his muscles looked almost fake. He had a bushy black beard and sunglasses, and his purple tank top had the image of a bloody axe on it. His lanyard was on but his badge was flipped the other way. “Sorry, I’m bad at introductions,” he said as he flipped around the badge, “My name is Axel Wachow; ‘the Axeman of America!’” Utterly confused, I just asked him, “What?” “Uh, not a fan, huh?” His large grin turned into a sheepish grimace. “Sorry. I’m a wrestler, WWE’s highest billed performer, actually.” “Oh, sorry! I don’t really watch wrestling. You’re uh, you’re a fan of Epic Rap Battles of History?” “Sure am! In fact, I’ve even suggested a couple battles and they did one of them!” “Really? Which one?” “Trump vs Ebenezer Scrooge.” “...Why though?” Axel laughed at that response. Another man walked up towards us, scowling at our jestering. “The both of you are laughing about nonsense and we still don’t know what’s going on here?” The both of us looked at him, taken aback from his crudeness. Axel immediately straightened up and asked, “What’s it to ya, Jeff?” The man was very annoyed at that. “It’s Jeffrey. And I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on here with these badges. This banner says the first few people to be here will be VIPs, yet we’re all here just minutes before the show is meant to start without another soul in sight. All these badges here are meant to identify us as VIPs, complete with picture IDs and our names, which is impossible to know if this was truly meant as a “be-the-first-to-win-a-VIP” raffle scenario.” Jeffrey explained all this as he closely examined his own badge, stopping suddenly. “What in the hell?” Axel and I observed Jeffrey as he walked away from us, looking down at his badge and inspecting it from different angles. With his departure, an older gentleman came towards us. “He’s right you know.” “And you are?” I asked the old man. “My name is Erik Blut Von Drachen. I’ve had a very bad feeling about all of this from the moment I arrived here. I’ve felt somewhat comforted by the thought of ERB starting soon, but with time running down I’m starting to fear what may really be at play here. Jeffrey here is absolutely in the right to worry there is something vile at large here.” “Well,” I started to ponder, “maybe they checked the hotel check-in records? Out of everyone that came here for the show, maybe we were the first sixteen to check-in at the hotel.” “Doubt it,” Axel chimed in, “I’m not staying at this hotel; I’m at the J.W. Marriott two blocks from here. The deluxe suite. No offense, but the hotel here’s kind of average and too… affordable.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at Axel’s heavily privileged comment. Erik didn’t find it quite as funny, however. “Even more peculiar. That’s the most reasonable probability out the window.” “How about security cameras then?” I asked. There must be an answer. “I can’t fathom why they would check all the security footage for some VIP access at a two-day show,” Erik argued. “Who cares?” a young woman asked as she walked up to us, checking her makeup in her phone’s camera. “It’s probably just a typo on the banner. They saw who bought tickets and just selected us at random to be VIPs. I mean, look at the banner! It even looks like it was made really last second; whoever did it was probably misinformed on how the VIP thing worked.” She brought up a good point, shutting the speculative Erik up pretty quickly. In fact, Erik seemed really shocked as he just stood there, looking at the girl. Oh. Ew. “Want a signature or something, old man?” The girl asked. “You’re Amy Mitten!” Erik exasperated. “Thanks, I know. Seriously though, want one?” She asked. Come to think of it, she did look somewhat familiar. Axel appeared a little annoyed at this whole encounter. “You’re telling me this vlogger chick’s getting recognized more than I am here?” He asked, using air quotes when saying the word "chick". “Axel, honey, we’re all here for a YouTube show. I’m a YouTuber. Hell, I’m probably the most likely to be in a battle out of anyone here! Peter, Lloyd, and I have all been to VidCon. I mean, I’ve never met them, but like, I could. It’d be an awesome crossover.” “Check the You Decide parts; I’ve been in a battle already, Caitlyn Jenner,” Axel said, seething and squaring up to the young girl before him. “Okay, Randy Savage,” Amy quipped as she too advanced, not afraid of the glorified stuntman in front of her. “AWKWARD QUESTION TIME!” the raspy voice of a gentleman bellowed out from behind us. Turning around, we saw a middle aged white man with silver hair and a pressed suit, walking towards us. “Axeman Wachow, how does it feel to not be the center of attention here?” “Jake Stuart? What in the hell are you doing here?” Axel asked, immediately recognizing the man. “Same as you, I’d reckon! I love these rap battles! I even had Nice Peter on my show once. We ‘rekt’ this one kid who called-in and asked a question Pete already answered! Good times.” Almost all of us recognized Jake; he’s all over television and the internet, as he is one of the most prolific Late Night show hosts for the last couple years. Erik seemed to be the only one who had no idea who he was, even inching away from him in a lack of interest. “Hello Matthew,” another voice spoke to me from behind, as if someone wanted to single me out and speak to me directly. I turned to see him, a younger gentleman with white hair and black eyes. “My name is Avery Maven the Thirteenth, how are you doing tonight?” His image was off-putting and his behavior was far too casual in comparison to the rest of the people here. Many of us were in groups, squabbling with greetings and conversation or arguing. This man, however, stood apart from the rest and paid no mind to the others until now. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and responded normally to his open; “Good. Yourself?” “Very well. Everyone appears to be worried over the events that have occurred here, but I am not concerned. Everything works out in the end,” he replied. His smile was thin and his manner of speaking was quiet and monotone. He seemed void of emotion and almost robotic. Before I could respond, a third party interrupted us. “Is he bothering you too?” asked another person walking up, trailed by two other individuals. The speaker had skin so pale that it almost looked gray, dressed in a black turtleneck, torn jeans, and a blue beanie. “I seem to attract quite a lot of weird people, but this Avery guy definitely takes the cake. He’s been going on about nonsense for the past hour.” “He’s okay, I guess…” I said, kind of apprehensively. I didn’t really want to speak ill of the guy directly in front of him, but it seemed like he wasn’t even paying attention; his eyes wandering around the room as if he was in his own little world. I looked back at the turtleneck-cladded person as they extended their hand towards me. Instinctively, I shook it. “Name’s P.N. Flatts. These two behind me are uh, Cynthia and Neo, right? They’re fans of mine, I suppose,” Flatts said. The other two greeted me as well. Cynthia was a middle-aged British woman in a cyan sweater, cyan-dyed hair, and cyan-framed glasses. To her right was Neo, a teenager with a growing beard and puffy hair dressed in a green jacket, RWBY t-shirt, and gray sweatpants. Cynthia was decent and said it was nice to meet me while Neo seemed a little reserved and bored. I looked back at P.N. Flatts and asked, “Fans of yours? How many celebrities are there here?” Flatts chuckled. “I’m surprised too. I’m pretty new to this whole thing, really. It’s just my last two books that really took off and became best-sellers. People love them though, there’s already been play adaptations and now a movie in the works.” “Oh, you’re the horror guy, right?” I asked, piecing together the information and recalling about a best-selling psychological thriller novel entitled Noah, Probably by one P.N. Flatts. “The horror guy, haha, yeah. And what’s your story, Matt?” He asked me as he read the badge on my lanyard. “I’m just an electrician from a few cities over. Not a best-selling electrician or anything, haha. This is actually my first time in LA; I’m pretty excited to see ERB.” Neo’s attention was piqued and jumped in the conversation with, “Me too! I’m ERB’s biggest fan!” Flatts laughed as he looked at Neo and interrogated him, “I thought you were my biggest fan?” Cynthia immediately laughed and shook her head to suggest that she herself was Flatts’ biggest fan. “Umm, I’m pretty sure we’re all pretty uh-- equal, fans of ERB, I think,” spoke up the quiet and cracking voice of a young girl. The four of us turned to see a girl with straight black hair, wearing a white collared shirt, black tie, and black pencil skirt with black flat shoes. Around her neck was her lanyard that wrote “Mindy Milton”, as well as a golden cross on a necklace. She was obviously timid and now anxious that she had caught the attention of several individuals at once. Upset that his claim had been put into question, Neo spoke up to defend his love for ERB. “Oh yeah? Can you recite every single line from every single battle, verbatim?” “Y-yeah,” Mindy said quickly. Neo was actually surprised. “Oh. Uh. Prove it!” “Th-this battle’s gonna end like every argument does. With you kissing my… err, blank, and begging me for a… a uh, a rub,” Mindy awkwardly rapped Eve’s verse. Neo held his sides in pain as he laughed, me and the others also chuckling. “Jesus Christ,” spoke someone else, overhearing the conversation and obviously disgusted by Mindy’s butchering of the song; a product of someone more than likely helicopter parented all her life. This person was dressed in extravagant attire; a purple beret and scarf with matching lipstick and nails, a black frock and tights atop black dress shoes. Their lanyard read “Rae F. Day”. “Uh, I-I’m sorry to impose b-but, I really don’t think you should take the Lord’s name in vain,” Mindy rebutted, offended but afraid to argue with someone. Rae smirked and shook their head before cocking it back, now acting differently. “Sorry, didn’t mean to let that slip. I didn’t mean to offend you, I didn’t know you were sensitive over stuff like that.” Their remarks seemed genuine, but seeing how they had just acted a moment before as if they had taken joy in insulting her and her religion, I figured that it was all just an act. Mindy seemed convinced though, either completely fooled or just wanting to believe someone was actually nice even if she really knew they were not. “Let go!” a woman screamed, breaking through the commotion of the expo hall. Everyone turned to see the Cuban woman trying to wrestle from a Caucasian man in a white tank top. He held her arm as they were spinning around each other, in her effort to break free. Eventually she did and ran off towards our group, and I watched on as the man was approached by another, who twisted him around and tackled him to the ground. The man in the white tank top yelled in pain as his attacker yelled at him and told him to calm down and stop fighting. The man yelled back, “FUCKIN’ LIBTARD GET OFF ME NOW!” A well-dressed Asian man came towards us to aid the woman who was being harassed. “Are you alright, miss? He did not hurt you, did he? I am a doctor, my name is Jason Cooper, Ph.D.” Still shaken, she stuttered, “I-I’m fine. He, he didn’t hurt me, he just, he just started yelling at me and grabbed me. Something about wanting me to give him the ‘N-word Pass’, I think.” She was a skinny little thing; seeing a man like that just grab her and start harassing her was so disturbing. She allowed Dr. Cooper to examine her arm, gently turning it and making sure she was not hurt. “What is your name, miss?” Cooper asked. Upon closer inspection, the woman was wearing her lanyard, but the clasp and the badge were missing; torn clean off as a result of the skirmish. “I’m… I’m Vi, Vi Clementine.” Neo’s ears perked once again and butted into the conversation. “You’re Vi Clementine? The voice actor?” The name did sound familiar. I remembered reading it in the credits of some of my favorite shows and anime. Vi calmed down and smiled, pleased to be surrounded by a friendly face and even a fan of hers. “Y-Yeah. Nice to meet you.” Axel, Erik, Amy, and Jake migrated towards us as the two men got up and the tackler escorted him towards us. Vi’s attacker winced in pain as he walked. “Oi Doc, I think I twisted his ankle,” the man said in a thick Australian accent, pushing his captive towards Cooper. Vi hid behind Flatts and Cynthia, still scared of the man. Cooper kneeled down to look at the man’s right ankle, nodding and confirming the other man’s claim. “You’re correct, officer. I can’t really blame you, though.” Reading the uninjured man’s badge, it read “Jamahl Majellan”. The one with the twisted ankle had a badge that read “Asier Cassidy McKass”. Cooper looked up from the ankle to Asier’s eyes and simply asked, “Is there a reason you attacked this woman?” “DON’T TOUCH ME YOU LIBTARD CUCK!” Asier yelled at the doctor, kicking away his hands with his good leg. “THANKS TO THIS FOREIGNER, I CAN’T ENJOY TONIGHT’S SHOW NOW!!” Asier was clutching onto Vi’s badge, Axel leaning down and ripping it out of the former’s hand and returning it to its rightful owner. “‘The Ultimate Historian?’” a familiar voice yelled out in perplexion. While others kept their attention pointed towards Asier’s crass behavior and remarks, I turned and saw Jeffrey holding his badge up to the light, shining down on us from above the stage. From where I was, I saw a slight shimmer coming from the badge as Jeffrey closely examined it. I began to approach Jeffrey out of curiosity, when suddenly all the lights in the expo hall shut off, abandoning the sixteen of us in complete darkness. Shrill screams came out from many of us, others questioning what had happened, and the voice of Neo yelling in excitement, believing the show was starting. A monitor on the stage turned on, a bright red circle appearing on it. This was the only thing visible in the darkness and naturally caught all of our attention. A voice, robotic and monotone--unlike Avery’s yet still familiar--spoke to us through the many speakers stationed throughout the expo hall. “Thank you for waiting so patiently for the show to begin, our special access audience members. You have all been randomly selected to take part in the act.” The red eye, the robotic voice, the intimidating energy emanating from all of it… this was HAL 9000. This was how the show was starting? Still curious, I asked aloud, “Randomly selected? The banner said whoever arrived earliest would be VIP!” Erik chimed in as well, “And why is nobody else here?” I think it was Cynthia’s voice that also pondered, “Why is the show so late?” Jeffrey yelled, “And what’s up with these bullshit badges?! What the fuck is ‘Ultimate Historian’ supposed to mean?!” I was the only one that had paid any mind to Jeffrey, so the others were curious and did not know what he had meant as they chatted amongst themselves. HAL 9000 was silent however. After a moment, other monitors turned on, with more HALs on them as well. The stage now had six red eyes on it, daunting all of us. Finally, HAL responded with a question, “Jeffrey Newton, you are the Ultimate Historian, are you not?” “Huh?” Jeffrey asked through bated breath. “I’m… I’m a historian, yes, but I… what do you mean by ultimate?” “You’re the best there is. All of you are. Why else would you be granted such special access? VIP stands for ‘very important person’ after all. Take a look and see for yourselves.” HAL 9000’s eye got brighter and brighter, flashing a light upon all of us. The flash dissipated but now, looking where the others were, I saw yellow lights dangling in the air. The badges we were wearing were glowing. As the others noticed this as well, I heard shocked gasps and whispers. I looked down at mine and held it, reading the illuminated words “The Ultimate Electrician.” Utterly confused and shocked, thoughtless from what I saw happening around me, I could only hear myself ask aloud, “What is this?” “This, Matthew… is the rest of your lives.” More confused gasps rang out from the others. “What the fuck does that mean?!” Axel yelled out. “You will all be held here for the rest of your lives. You may not leave. You will all enjoy the comfort of this showplace’s whimsy, the hotel’s accommodations and living quarters, and each other’s company... forever.” “W-we can’t leave?” I asked, thinking about my boyfriend. All of us here have families, and we weren’t allowed to see them again? “I did not necessarily say that. You may leave on one condition only. Murder.” I believe all of us let out gasps that time. “Murder your fellow VIP members. There will be an investigation, and if you are found guilty, you will be executed. Get away with the crime, however, and you will be set free as the others are all executed. If you refuse to murder, however, you will only delay the inevitable and become an easy target. This is the game. And you will all play by it.” HAL 9000’s red eyes disappeared as all the monitors turned off at once. All the lights came back on, blinding at first until our eyes could adjust. We all looked at one another; mouths opened, sweat trickling, minds racing, hearts beating faster and faster. Is this what it felt like? Is this what it means to feel despair? Matthew Wonder - The Ultimate Electrician. Asier Cassidy McKass - The Ultimate White Nationalist. Neo Greene - The Ultimate Fanatic. Jamahl Majellan - The UltiMate Sheriff. Axel Wachow - The Ultimate Wrestler. Rae F. Day - The Ultimate Stage Actor. Amy Mitten - The Ultimate Vlogger. Jeffrey Newton - The Ultimate Historian. Cynthia Page - The Ultimate Librarian. Jake Stuart - The Ultimate Television Host. P.N. Flatts - The Ultimate Horror Novelist. Vi Clementine - The Ultimate Voice Actress. Mindy Milton - The Ultimate Christian Missionary. Jason Cooper, M.D. - The Ultimate Doctor. Erik Blut Von Drachen - The Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist. Avery Maven the Thirteenth - The Ultimate Cult Leader. Written by: Amy and Rae. Category:Blog posts